


Blood in the water

by GrimRed



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Humor, But also, Can be read as stand alone, Gen, I keep telling myself, Implied/Referenced Winged!Philza, Lazar-centric, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, No SBI dynamics, Not Canon Compliant (kinda), One-Shot, Vik-centric, a bit OOC, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29125470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimRed/pseuds/GrimRed
Summary: Lazar gets stuck in the nether but luckily Tommy and Ghostbur are there to help.
Relationships: Lazarbeam & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Vikkstar123 & Lazarbeam (Video Blogging RPF), Vikkstar123 & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Blood in the water

**Author's Note:**

> This should been out sooner but school started up for me. Formatting might be off since I had to post this on my phone. (Takes place in Tommy’s exile arc for reference, you can tell I didn’t wanna hurt him further lol.)

Stranded. Lazarbeam is fucking stranded out in the nether. 

Via note stuck to a crafting table, Vik had gone out early morning in search of a village untainted by the destructive colonization of L’manburg leaving the Aussie all alone in the house. Not one to sit idly by and look pretty, Lazar figured he’d make himself useful for once and thus ventured forth into the Nether in search of precious Netherite— to no avail. 

Taking his chances and nursing a bruised ego, he took the walk of icy-shame back towards home already brainstorming ways of replacing used up blocks and materials.

The ice path was long and beyond-a-doubt-man-made. Unstable and slippery as it gets. The last time he was here was with Vik, who had held his sweaty hand guiding him through. 

Lazar hated crossing it with all his being. 

Plus the added challenge of the Nether’s humidity made it damn-near impossible to cross it without having past experience. 

Which Lazar obviously didn’t have. So he held white-knuckled-tight on the wooden scaffolding, the muscles of his forearms shaking with strain, slowly but surely making his way. Soon enough he developed a smooth rhythm, almost skating on the ice.

He looked down at his feet, allowing himself a little chuckle of triumph. 

Vik would be impressed. He would offer a _“Well done."_ And a smile. At least, he hoped, his partner has been standoffish, even more so than usual, the smiles come few and far in between. Mind alongside clouds.

He's convinced it has something to do with Techno, he just doesn't know what exactly. 

His right foot slides left. _Impossibly far left._ Snapping him out of his thoughts, panic seeping into his heart. 

Possibly, it was bad luck or the world humbling him. 

Lazar landed, hard, on his right knee, his body slamming down on the icy path. Sending thick spider-web like cracks across the ice.

_Or, Lazar thought, maybe he shouldn't have gotten out of bed this morning._

There was a brief moment of peace where the ice stilled, quieting it’s terrifying cacophony of noise, Lazar nearly convinced himself that he was fine. 

Like thunder and just as fast, the ice shattered underneath him. His hands floundered against the slippery-wet surface.

Lazar plummeted. 

He wakes up on his side, gasping but grateful he’s still somehow alive. His head pounded and his knee ached something fierce, he struggled to control his breath, staring into magma. 

Lazar rolls onto his back, ears ringing from the slight exertion. 

The ice bridge above him- what’s left of it, a thin, blurry line. 

He had landed on a Netherrack patch. The heat underneath the small patch warmed his tender, stinging skin. 

Lazar bit back a low groan, forcing himself to sit upright getting hit with a wave of sharp pain in his ribs. His leg is bent at an awkward angle and Lazar averts his gaze immediately, facing the glowing red horizon. Fighting tears of frustration and fear. 

Stranded. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, you really fucked it this time.” Lazar hissed through gritted teeth, fighting a losing battle with the armor straps of his golden leggings. He shoved a trembling hand into his pocket fishing out his communicator. 

_“Now Vik’s gotta find your dumbass.”_ The small screen flashes, booting up. In a few clicks he’s at a list full of strangers and Tommy. Vik’s name is nowhere to be seen. 

Debilitating shock runs through his bones like he’s been struck by lightning, _Vik is out of range._

Lazar leaned forward, his heart rising in his throat, threatening to suffocate him as if the soul-sand particles in the air weren’t already doing a good job at that, “No, no, no you’ve got to be joking.” He refreshed the list as if it’ll do something. 

Same list of strangers and _Tommy-fucking-innit._

Taking a deep breath, the scent of ash and smoke forcing a hacking cough from him, Lazar’s finger hovers over the glowing, yellow name. 

_“Fuck it.”_

He shakely typed out a message, praying for a reply. 

_“Hey, Tommy, look I know we’ve had such a combative relationship but I don’t think it needs to stay that way.”_

Thank the members, the teenager's response was instantaneous, _“in my defense u r australian.”_

Lazar’s laughter filled the heated space, under normal circumstances he would’ve snarked at the kid but the Aussie was overjoyed he could break out in song and dance. 

_“Fair enough, I need your help.”_

_“With what”_

_“I’m stuck in the nether.”_

_“Where abouts”_

_“Under the ice bridge.”_

A minute passes and no answer. A bead of sweat falls from his hairline down onto the communicator screen, he swiped at it, smudging his previous messages. _“I have a gift for you, Tommy.”_ Lazar punches in the letters trying to entice the teenager, sweetening up the pot to overlook the unforgiving fact that he’s Australian.

Another agonizing minute passes and Lazar uses his ace card, _“I can make Vik like you-“_

It's cut short by Tommy’s incoming message. 

_“Im coming give me a min”_ Lazar’s relief is fucking euphoric. He leaned back letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Heart pounding out of his chest. 

_“Im here where exactly did you fall thru”_

_“There should be a gap in the ice.”_

\--

“Holy fuck you’re down there!”

“Oh good-“ Lazar started then promptly coughed, suddenly feeling his sand-paper dry throat. He gathered and swallowed what little saliva he had left. He squinted up at the tiny blob of white standing on the bridge along with a second taller figure. “I’m right here!” 

“Hello Lazarbeam!” The second figure yelled, cheerful, a gentle British lilt staining his words. Oblivious to the dangerous situation. 

Tommy faced the ghost, “Don't speak too much to Lazarbeam, Wilbur.” 

The specter cocked his head like a puppy, eyes wide and clear, “Why not?” 

“He’s Australian.” 

Ghostbur’s eyes narrowed sadly, soft with pity. “Oh.” 

“Guys, can we pay attention.” Lazar rasped from below. 

The teenager scanned the surrounding area, weighing his options, he gulped, “Well you see, I’m not sure if this is really worth it,” He called down, “I do like you that much?” 

Lazar grimaced but held on to hope, Tommy wouldn't have come all this way just to leave. 

Right?

“I’ve got a gift for you Tommy but I can’t give it to you if I’m dead.” 

Tommy looked away, lost in thought. His shoulders slumped before sighing over-dramatically, “Alright, Ghostbur, go get some gravel.” 

\--

It takes awhile but Tommy is halfway down with a gravel staircase in his wake, the ghost trailed behind him. 

“We’re almost there Lazarbeam,” Ghostbur yelled, good-naturedly,” we’re gonna save you.” 

Lazar sat still as can be, wiping the sweat off his brow, trying to ignore a dull, throbbing ache in his twisted leg. “It’s ah- appreciated.” He croaked, breathing shallow. 

Tommy looked up momentarily at Lazar, eyebrows knitted together, focused, before looking back down at his creation, “You’re so far down.” Apprehensiveness painting his features. 

Lazar panicked at the teen’s hesitation, “Don’t you fucking dare leave me here, Tommy!” 

“Holy shit!” Tommy stood up straight, stilling his movement, completely, You’re so much further down- how- how did you even get that far down?!” His voice rose in pitch now taking in the situation properly. 

Lazar rapidly shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed, dizzy with fear. “Just don’t give up!” 

“How did you even manage to get-“

“Do you guys need a fireman?” A voice from above rang. 

Tommy's head snapped up, automatic, recognizing the man who said it, “No! No!”

“Hey Technoblade!” Ghostbur waved at the piglin. “We do need a fireman! There’s an Australian stranded in some lava!” He said now pointing at Lazar. 

Lazar caught a glimpse of pink and gold, hope renewed tenfold, “Help me!” 

“No, no-” Tommy said, salty as ocean water, pressing a gravel block close to his chest, ”We don’t need him, he’s a wrongen.”

“Yes, we do!” Ghostbur yelled over the chorus of “No’s” from Tommy. “We need to get him out!” 

“Alright, hold on Lazar ‘m coming down.” Techno yelled. 

Tommy stared at the piglin quickly descending down his gravel staircase, “No! Don’t!” He turned swiftly, facing the spirit, “Go get us some more gravel, hurry.” Ghostbur nodded cheerful as ever, floating up past Techno. 

Tommy glowered at the hybrid, he threw the block at the piglin's head, but missed. “Go away, we don’t need you.” 

“No, ‘m needed here.” He replied regarding the teenager with a certain arctic-like coldness. 

The boy stepped back, the heel of his tattered shoes hanging off the block he was standing on, “No you're not.” 

“Tommy! Be careful!” Lazar reached a useless hand towards the child, “Stop moving back.”

Tommy ignored the australian because he was, well…australian. “Why are you even here? How'd you even find us?’ 

Techno stepped forward, “Saw you while I was tryin’ to gather materials,” Tommy stepped further back, pieces of gravel breaking off and falling into the lava below.

Lazar bit the inside of his cheek. 

“Then I saw him stranded in the lava and thought, ‘Wow that’s hilarious.” 

The corners of Tommy’s lip twitched upwards, “N-no, It’s not funny, it’s a tragedy.” He answered, unable to keep mirth out of his tone. Anger almost dissipating. Almost. 

“Anyway, I have to save him.” Techno’s eyes gleamed with something Tommy wasn't able to pinpoint. 

Tommy stepped back, his right foot _finally_ slipping off, his hands wildly grasped at the air.

Techno’s eyes widened. 

The piglin surged forward, arms extended, his feet barely skimming with the ground. 

Tommy landed flat on his back, his head bouncing off the ground from the sheer force, the tip of his elbow touching blinding-hot lava. The boy screamed, loud and earth-shattering. He curled in on himself, holding his scorched arm close to his chest, “Fuck! Lazar you’re on your own,” He whimpered, tears forming at the edges of his eyes. “I’m done!” 

“Tommy!” Ghostbur screeched from above, uncharacteristically serious, gravel blocks in hand. 

The boy jumped to his feet shoving Techno beside, he hissed out a _“Don’t touch me.”_ He ran up the staircase, muttering something under his breath. 

The ghost dosen’t even bat a fucking eye, dropping the gravel and following dutiful behind the hurt boy. 

Lazar’s shoulders slumped.

“Don’t worry it’s okay.” Techno soothed, straightening up, rejusting the crown on top of his head. He stuck a hand in his robes producing his own communicator, “I’m gonna ask Phil to bring us some fire resistance potions and we’re gonna get you out of here.” 

\-- 

Vik gets Lazar’s messages far, far, too late.

All incoming. 

_‘Vik, I don’t know if you’ll get this but I’m stuck in the Nether.”_

_“help.”_

_“please.”_

It’s been hours.

He had sprinted to Boomerville and prayed Lazar got out. That he’ll see him farming or pulling weeds or standing outside drinking in the early december air. _Just alive and breathing._

Vik’s already choking on tears, his heart sinking at the sight of the house, cold, dark and empty. 

Hideous Mexican L'Manburg further casting a mocking gloom over their house.

His knees give out, Vik collapses on their front lawn and claws at the ground, the grass is meticulously cut short. Neat and precise. 

_From Lazar’s doing._

Boomerville is quiet.

His lungs grow heavy with grief. _And he can’t breathe._

He willed the world to open up and swallow him whole. Right then and there. 

A shadow fell over him, blocking out the suddenly-way-to-bright-fucking sun. “Hello, mate.” 

Vik doesn’t respond, fingers tearing at the dirt. 

The shadow laid a gentle hand on Vik’s taut shoulder, and tried again: “Hey.” So-very-soft and laced with worry. 

Vik followed the hand up to the person’s face, cheeks wet with tears. 

Philza’s face is half-obscured by the shadow of his striped bucket hat, when Vik looks up at him, Philza feels like his last life has been ripped away. A sense of sickening regret pools in his gut. 

The noise that escapes Vik is pitiful and small, “What do you want from me?” His voice was raspy and uncooperative, like someone had ripped it out and half-hazerdly tried to put it back together. 

“I need you to come with me, I’ll explain on the way.”

Philza’s hand doesn't let up. 

\--

Vik’s eyes sting when they hit northern air. He’s sat in a boat, back turned against Philza, facing south. His limbs all bundled up as if he was scared to take up space. 

Philza hummed a little tune, low and comforting as he rowed the boat. He paused, throwing a look over his shoulder, “I can assure you, he’s safe, Vik.” He said with the well-worn tiredness only a father could have. 

Vik blinked and his eyes still stung. He sniffed, “When I see it, I’ll believe it.” Petulant. 

A little chuckle bubbled up in Philza’s throat, he sighed, “Well we better get you there soon.” 

Vik stared at his feet, guilt weaving its way into his chest from his cold treatment of the older man. He wrapped his cloak around himself tighter. Philza had been nothing but helpful to him. 

He sniffed again, swiping a hand over his eyes before turning around. 

The boat creaked under Vik’s shifting weight, his gaze raked over Philza’s form, the light and dark blues, and reds of his thick winter uniform, the heart-shaped pins that clasped his cloak together, cropped-golden blond hair peeking out from beneath his stripped hat whose color matched the light blue of his uniform. 

His eyes landed on his neck, a gold chain. 

“Um- cool necklace.” Vik muttered, awkwardly. 

“Oh-“ Philza looks down at the chain seemingly forgetting it was there, “thanks it was a gift!” He swiped a thumb over the emerald, it gleamed like it was preening from the complement Vik gave. 

Vik’s allowed himself a smile, “Nice, from who?”

“Techno!” 

Just as the smile appeared it was gone. 

“Look it’s even a compass.” Philza leaned back, letting go of both oars, holding the necklace up and all of Vik’s senses screamed to pull away. He clicked a tiny button located on the side and the lid opened revealing indeed a compass. 

“Ah-ah..h, that’s a very pretty gift.” Vik croaked, forcing a smile. 

Philza returned his smile with an even bigger one, pearly-whites showing, delighted at Vik’s new-found keenness.

Techno’s cabin looms in the distance, large and proud.

Picking the oars back up again, Philza rolled his shoulders and flinches suddenly like he pulled a muscle, scaring Vik in the process. 

"Oh, sorry, mate, I didn't mean to scare you." Tossing a glance and a sheepish grin at the British man. 

Vik said nothing but his gaze tracked the movement underneath Philza's uniform, once he turned back around. 

\--

Technoblade stood, leaning against the door frame, admiring the sleeping form as if he caught a prize.

Honestly he might as well have. 

Lazar is wrapped head to toe in warm, silky white sheets, artfully so. He watched the rise and fall of the Australian's chest, his snores a gentle soundtrack to Techno’s viewing party. 

The floorboards creaked with barely-concealed warning as Techno fully entered the room, Lazar’s form didn’t move. 

Dimming sunlight bled through thin white curtains, painting Lazar’s light chestnut hair gold, the piglin carefully took a seat at the foot of the bed, the mattress dipping down underneath his weight. 

He leaned towards Lazar’s sleeping form, his arm outstretched. 

His chest swelled with pride, _“This is what Jason must’ve felt.”_

Techno caught a golden fleece. He carded a calloused hand through the “fur.” 

Lazar’s fur- sorry- hair is matted with sweat and dirty from soul sand dust. Lazar smells like cheated-death, it’s sticky and grave and Techno basks in it, welcoming the familiarity of it.

There was a loud knock then the sound of his door being swung open followed behind, “Techno! I brought him!” Philza’s voice echoed off the walls from downstairs.

Techno huffed, “In here!” 

His ears twitched, listening to fast feather-light footsteps. 

A smile crept onto his face. 

\--

Vik stands in the doorway, breathing ragged, right in the same spot where Techno stood. Dressed in that ancient-old blue cloak of his. 

“Hullo Vik.” Techno said, tone playful. 

A million emotions pass over Vik’s expression, of which none of them stay. The Brit acknowledges his greeting with a simple tilt of the head.

“You know,” He began, “you should really keep an eye on him.” Vik watched as Techno _lovingly_ threaded a hand through Lazar’s hair, the way his sleepy partner leaned into piglin's touch made Vik’s stomach churn, painfully. “You don’t want anything bad to happen to him,” The hand stops moving, fingers gently flexing like they’re itching to rip, “right, Vik?” His taunt drenched with faux-honey-sweetness. 

Beneath Vik’s faded-blue cloak, his hands ball into fists. 

Techno flashed him a toothy smile, tusks on full display, “Lucky it was only a dislocated knee, Phil managed to pop it back in for him.” He returned his attention back to the aussie. 

“Does this mean I owe you one?” Vik said, breathless, like it was getting squeezed out of him. 

Techno hummed low and soft mulling the question over,” Possibly, someone of your caliber can be very... _useful_ to me.” 

Vik grows hot and cold all at once, the realization devastates him like an axe to a head. He’s signed away his soul. 

Techno stretched, lazily, like a sunbathed cat before getting up, “Well, I’ll leave you two alone.” In a few long strides, he’s at the doorway, close enough for Vik to smell the tangy, almost citrusy scent of fire resistance on pale skin. 

Vik stifled a gag.

Techno’s large body invades his space, almost completely obscuring his view of his partner, “You wanna know somethin,” It’s not a question.

Vik’s thousand-mile stare never leaves Lazar. 

“You look very peaceful when you’re asleep.” He whispered, lighty. Trivial. Like it’s common knowledge. “I would've told you on that mornin’ but you ran off.” A hint of “hurt” evident in his tone.

Vik in that moment, wanted nothing more than to press his thumbs into Techno’s stupid, all-seeing eyes, to watch hot liquid gold drip, drip, _drip_ down his face, to stain that prestine blue uniform of his, to have it seep far into the dirt.

Ichor would make great fertilizer. 

“Just wanted to let you know.” The piglin said and shuffled past him. 

Vik stood still and listened, waited for Techno’s footsteps to fade down the corridor before even _thinking_ about moving.

Although afterwards, his hands are on Lazar before he realizes it. 

The aussie stirred under his touch, grumbling and annoyed, Vik kept on his assault, shaking Lazar’s shoulders, “H-hey, hey.” 

“Hm-” Lazar’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused and blurry. That is, until they make contact with Vik’s red-ringed ones. 

“Hey.”

“G’day.” 

A desperate-unbelieving smile ghosted over Vik’s features, “Holy hell-Lazar, I’m-”

The australian sat up, immediately sensing an unwanted apology and swallowed a groan, feeling the silent protest from his lead-heavy, limbs, “It’s okay, mate.”

“No, its not, I should’ve-’ 

Lazar held a neatly-bandaged hand up silencing the brit, sweet health potion lingering on his breath, “This was on me, Vik, I got careless- I should be the one saying sorry.” 

Vik stared in awe, exhaling deeply through his nose, thanking whatever the hell lurks above the heavens, whatever puppeteers the marionette strings of fate. He surged forward, wrapping his arms around the man and laughed with a certain childlike giddiness. Bright and bell like.

When Lazar tries to move away, partly from pain, Vik’s hold tightens, refusing to let the man slip out of his grasp, _not again,_ he squeezes like he’s trying to fuse their very atoms together. 

Lazar held his tongue regarding the hot-wetness on his shoulder when Vik nuzzles him. 

\--  
Philza sighed, his face a rosy-redstone red, Northern winter wind still unkind. “He doesn’t seem to like you all that much.” He mumbled while watching the two figures fade into the white tundra. One of them practically carrying the other, urgency lacing his movements. 

“He will.”

Philza rolled his shoulders, unfazed at his friend’s determination, “And if he doesn’t?”

Technoblade grinned, wiry and _dripping_ promise, “I’ve got ways.”

**Author's Note:**

> vik or lazar please log on to the damn server please im on my knees here
> 
> anyway here some scrapped lines I wasn’t able to fit in: A voice claws at the back of his mind, _he’s hurting, make it stop._ It’s so undeniably vague, Techno wanted to yank his hair out.
> 
> _“Im feeling big again”_  
>  Lazar makes a face at the sentence.
> 
> He hadn't accounted for just how massive techno was, easily lifting him off of the ground as if he weighed absolutely nothing. Or maybe Lazar was just small- no, no, that can’t be it. He was taller than his british counterpart. Not by a lot. But still. Taller.
> 
> The next one will be a whole lot shorter and Lazar-centric once again.


End file.
